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LEGACY
ELIZABETH
CAMDEN
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_Camden_DangerousLegacy_JB_wo.indd 3 7/6/17 12:21 PM
on-
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system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansfor example, electronic, pho-
tocopy, recordingwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only
exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products
of the authors imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Okay, you got it, Nick, Mr. Garzelli said with a hearty
handshake.
The sun had already set by the time Lucy and Nick returned
to Greenwich Village. They lived on the fourth floor of a brown-
stone walk-up that had once been a prestigious building but had
fallen on hard times in recent decades. Much like her own family.
She twisted the key in the lock to the apartment, stepped
inside the darkened interior, and immediately knew something
was wrong. Her nose twitched. Cigarette smoke?
That was odd. No one should have been in the apartment
today. Their mother had moved to Boston after their fathers
death almost a year ago, and they no longer had money for
servants.
When her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, she scanned the
room, looking for anything out of place. Nicks half-assem-
bled pumping valves lay scattered across the dining table, their
mothers leggy orchids lined the windowsill, and books were
crammed into every vacant table space and cubby. Their once-
fine furnishings had witnessed several generations of use and
no longer had any pretensions of grandeur, but everything had
the comfort of a much-loved blanket. Their family had once
been happy here.
You werent home today, were you? she asked.
Nick strode inside and tossed his sack of tools onto the sofa
with a thud. Nope. Why?
Dont you smell cigarette smoke?
He paused to sniff the air, then shrugged. The lady who
lives upstairs smokes like a freight train. Its probably coming
through the ventilation pipes.
Are you sure about that? Nick was a plumber, not an expert
on ventilation, but he seemed unconcerned.
Im not that paranoid, he said as he headed to the kitchen
sink to scrub his hands.
He might not mind the faint acrid scent, but it was worri-
some. Everything looked precisely as shed left it, but her skin
still prickled with the hunch that someone had been in their
apartment while they were gone.
She took a deep breath and wished her father were here. He
had been the rock on which their family depended, but toward
the end of his life, shed sensed he was losing hope. Shed often
caught him standing before the window, staring down at the
street below with bleak eyes, as if the demons were finally catch-
ing up with him. The week before he died, shed arrived home
from the office early one day and caught him staring at a paper
clenched in his hand, his face carrying a sickly pallor. She flew
to his side and asked what was wrong, and he startled. That was
the first time she saw pure, undiluted fear on her fathers face.
He had stuffed the paper into a maroon satchel and denied
anything was wrong, but she knew he was lying. His hands
had been trembling as he locked the satchel in his desk drawer.
After he died, she went in search of that satchel, but it was
nowhere to be found. She and Nick turned the apartment inside
out in search of it. They even pried up the floorboards in the
kitchen, where they hid the only treasure left to their family. The
treasure was still there, but no sign of the satchel. She never did
find it, and Lucy couldnt help but think that it somehow con-
tributed to her fathers death the following week. Hed always
had a weak heart, and whatever was in that maroon satchel
had petrified him.
Lucy heated a can of baked beans for their supper. She and
Nick alternated kitchen duties, and it was always a simple af-
fair. After ten hours of staffing a telegraph station, she didnt
need anything fancy. All she cared about was easy.
It didnt take long to wolf down the meal, and she volunteered
to clean up afterward while Nick flopped on their worn sofa and
paged through the days mail. They both worked long hours,
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Manhattan Drakes for decades. Lucy had no proof yet, but she
sensed the Saratoga Drakes might have somehow been behind
her fathers death. The doctor said it was a heart attack, but
Lucy couldnt be certain.
Was the lawsuit worth it? Her gaze tracked to the faucet.
How easily most people took clean water for granted, but she
never did. Neither did Mr. Garzelli or the rest of his two hun-
dred tenants.
Yes. The lawsuit was worth it, even if it meant she became
a spinster and had to fear the scent of cigarette smoke leaking
through her apartments ventilation system. She had an obliga-
tion to her father and grandfather to keep fighting the Saratoga
Drakes. Her uncle had a fortune, an army of lawyers, and three
rounds of lower court decisions on his side. Most importantly,
he had no soul, and that let him fight with the single-minded
zeal of a jackal.
But she and Nick had a weapon the Saratoga Drakes knew
nothing about. For two years it had served to keep them one
step ahead of her uncle and all his scheming. It was a risky
weapon that could land her and Nick in jail, but with luck, it
would also finally turn the tide in the Manhattan Drakes favor.
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such a saucy cap was probably a lot of fun. He only wished she
wasnt such a penny pincher.
Oh, for pitys sake, he finally interrupted. Ill pay for the
blasted chestnuts. Just fetch me a mug of hot chocolate, please.
Hopefully before I catch my death of frostbite. He covered
his mouth and blew on his hands again, and the girl turned
around to gape at him.
He was gobsmacked. She had a pretty face with a narrow chin,
but it was her dark eyes that captured his attention. They were
full of laughter and sparkled in the light from the streetlamp.
I dont think you can actually die of frostbite, can you?
she asked.
A young man with wild hair and the same dark coloring
stood beside her. You could if it catches gangrene. I think it
develops seepage in the worst cases.
The girl turned back to Colin. Well? Do you have seepage?
What I have is an urgent need to buy something hot. Im
serious about paying for your meal, although a simple sign
posting the prices could help us avoid all this pointless hag-
gling. The queues in London move much quicker because we
simply post the price.
Did you hear that, Nick? the girl said. Our new best friend
from London is going to buy our meal.
The wild-haired man grinned. In that case, I want a hot
pastrami sandwich, too. Why didnt you just put on a decent
coat, London? Its December.
Because its not supposed to be so insanely cold here, he
defended. New York is ten latitude degrees south of England,
so this freeze makes no sense.
Its called the Gulf Stream, the girl replied. Didnt they
teach you about it in those fancy British schools?
He suppressed a smile and tried to sound firm as he paid for
their food. The two of you are pure torture.
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badly out of tune, but it was a magical evening spent with two
wonderfully irreverent people.
It came to an abrupt and mortifying end when Lucy made a
play for him. When she found out he had never been to Steeple-
chase Park, nor had he ever ridden a Ferris wheel, she grabbed
his arm.
We must go! she said, her eyes lively in the moonlight. I
could meet you there sometime. Couples pair up for the ride.
Wouldnt that be fun?
It would, but he was not a free man, and his attraction to her
was growing by the minute. He couldnt afford this. He stared
at the spot where her hand clutched his arm and wished every
nerve ending in his body hadnt flared to life at her touch.
He hardened his face, and she withdrew her hand. That is,
if you like, she stammered.
A fair like that really isnt my sort of thing, he said. It
sounds a bit riffraff, doesnt it?
Lucy seemed to shrink within her heavy overcoat, but Nicks
eyes narrowed. Hey, Lucy, he said through clenched teeth,
are we riffraff and never noticed it before?
An awkward silence descended. He hadnt meant to sound
quite so arrogant, but he needed to put some distance between
himself and this girl who disrupted his equilibrium.
No offense, but Im not exactly the type of man who can
consort with any pretty girl he meets in a park.
Nick stood. I dont know what consort means over in Lon-
don, but my sister didnt just ask to consort with you, mister.
True, the word had some unsavory connotations, but it was
nothing worth coming to blows over, which was what it looked
like Nick wanted.
Colin rose and excused himself just before the fireworks
began, and hadnt spoken to Lucy since. In the intervening
months, hed seen her in the elevator and in the cafeteria on
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What news of TR? Roland asked, and Lucy rolled her eyes.
While most of the operators on Midway wanted gossip from
home, Roland followed politics with the zeal of a bloodhound
and always wanted news of the president.
Another operator broke in on the conversation. TR is a
wonderful, brave, and wise man. You have convinced me. He
is the best president we have ever had.
That was not me! Lucy immediately keyed as fast as she
could type.
One of the problems with chatting on the line was that un-
less operators identified themselves, it was impossible to know
who sent the message or from where. She and Roland enjoyed a
healthy debate about President Roosevelt, and most operators
along the wire knew she could barely tolerate the president,
while Roland idolized him as though he were King Arthur come
to save the nation.
His response soon came from Midway. TR is the first real
man to sit in the White House. News of Panama?
Hold, Lucy replied and closed the circuit while she ran to
snatch a copy of todays New York Times. Of all the bold moves
President Roosevelt had initiated, plans for a canal through
the Isthmus of Panama was at the forefront. The narrow strip
of land was part of Colombia, a nation reluctant to permit
American engineers into their territory for the construction
of the forty-eight-mile canal. Rumor had it that Roosevelt was
encouraging rebels in the northern part of the nation to re-
volt and create their own independent country that would be
called Panama. Lucy skimmed the paper, quickly landing on
two stories about the topic, and summarized them as concisely
as possible.
Plans for a canal moving forward. TR signed a treaty with
Colombian diplomat to proceed, but Colombian Senate refuses
to ratify. Standoff continues.
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After attaching the canister back onto the pigeons leg, she
carefully walked the bird to the open window and cautiously
extended her arm. The bird needed no coaxing and lifted off
to disappear from view somewhere above her window. Would
it find its way home?
She shouldnt have worried, for less than five minutes later,
the bird was flapping at the window again. She read the note
for the office.
Bitter?
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Hed gotten her with that one, for there was nothing she
could say to defend Vanderbilt. She guided the pigeon back to
the open window, leaned out, and looked up. Colin Beckwith
was leaning out his window two floors up and grinning down
at her.
Hey, London! she called out. Heres your bird. She re-
leased the pigeon, and he lowered a hand to receive it.
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his mass-produced valves, but she and Nick helped people who
could never afford the extravagant fees her uncle demanded.
Lucy and Nick rode the streetcar back home in silence. She
was twenty-eight years old, and Nick was thirty-one. They
both ought to be married and living a normal life, not working
their fingers to the bone to pay a lawyer they couldnt afford.
Im sorry I cant be there tomorrow, Nick said as they sat
side by side on the streetcar bench. Were installing the new
tidal doors in the tunnel, and I need to be there.
Ill be okay, she said.
After all, she already knew how the Saratoga Drakes intended
to proceed tomorrow. They were going to file a motion to get
the suit dismissed, claiming that Lucy and Nick had no stand-
ing in the case. Since they had not been born when the original
contract was signed in 1863, they had no vested interest in the
valve. Their father had been alive and clearly had standing in the
courts eyes, but with his death last year, the Saratoga Drakes
wanted to call the lawsuit to an end.
The only thing that worried Lucy was Uncle Thomass latest
motion accusing them of bad faith. It had come out of the blue
and hung over her head like a waiting vulture, frightening her
with its vague sense of doom. Nevertheless, she had right on her
side. She prayed each evening for wisdom in how to move forward
with this ugly lawsuit. Almost four million people were crowded
into New York City, and a third of them had no running water
in their homes. If her uncle won, that was unlikely to change.
I just feel like Im letting you down, Nick said, his voice heavy
with exhaustion. He leaned forward, bracing his forehead on his
palms as he stared at the floor. I really hate this, he whispered.
The fact that the Saratoga Drakes could make her brave, dar-
ing brother feel this low was discouraging, but she wouldnt let
it stop them. This battle had begun before she was even born,
but she would be leading the charge when it ended.
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